


Eternity

by endoftheline7 (orphan_account)



Series: Survival [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, references to cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4860047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/endoftheline7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you miss them?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Your wife and son. Do you miss them?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> So this is set like 1 year-18 months after the finale/past two stories

"Your husband looked as if he was about to fall asleep in there, Dr. Tailor," the woman says. 

"Yes, well the opera isn't really James' scene. He came to humour me on my birthday," Hannibal explains.

"We didn't know it was your birthday!" Another man exclaims. Will hasn't bothered to learn any of their names. Hannibal has, of course.

He carries on, but Will tunes him out, deciding not to listen. When he comes back to himself, it's because of Hannibal placing a hand on his lower back and his elbow, steering him away.

"You looked very far away there, Will."

"Sorry. Was it that obvious?"

"No, only to me," Hannibal comforts. "I appreciate you coming tonight."

"Well, anything for my dear husband Dr. Tailor," Will jokes, and grins back at Hannibal when he smiles.

"Time to go, James," Hannibal retaliates, and Will sighs in frustration.

"I hate our fake names," he grumbles. "Could we have at least chosen better ones?"

"Will, we're trying to appear ordinary here. Our fake names are fine."

"Well of course you'd say that. You were the one who chose them."

 

* * *

 

"Do you miss them?" Hannibal asks softly, and Will looks up from where he's sitting cross-legged on the sofa in his pyjamas, scrolling through Netflix.

"What?"

"Your wife and son. Do you miss them?"

"I... Is this really something you want to talk about on your birthday?" He gets the impression that birthdays aren't really something that Hannibal celebrates often, and he was reluctant in accepting Will's idea to go to the opera together. Whether he cares about his birthday or not, Hannibal deserves _some_ fun.

"It would put my mind at ease, so yes, I'd like to talk about it."

"Um, okay then," Will says, and puts the remote down. He shifts, turning to the side, as Hannibal joins him on the couch, mirroring his position. "I'm not going to lie to you, though."

"Good."

"I do miss them."

Hannibal's face falls.

"But not in the way you'd think. It's... Complicated. I loved them, I really did, but missing them is something different. I miss the _idea_ of them," he explains.

"I'm not sure I follow," Hannibal frowns.

"My entire relationship with them was based on idealisation. While I loved them, I knew, deep down, that I couldn't be with them for long. I was deluding myself when I thought I could walk away from the FBI and everything that happened, without getting dragged back in. The time I spent with them, married, and a father, it just wasn't _me_.

"It was who I _wanted_ to be. It was a distraction, a way to ignore how much I missed you. Of course I loved them, and of course I miss them, but I don't want to be with them. Not anymore. I miss the idealised life I had with them, but I wouldn't have been able to keep it up for much longer anyway. Right now? I'm with you. Because I want to be. I choose _you_."

A small smile creeps back onto Hannibal's face, and he looks down at where their knees are pressed together.

"Thank you, Will. For being so honest. I do worry sometimes, that you don't want to be here. That I'll wake up one day, and find you gone."

"Where would I go? Back to Molly and Walter? I'm not the kind of guy who can teach his son to fish and walk the dogs with his wife. I'm not that man anymore, and maybe I never was," Will says, smiling sadly. "Before we let you 'escape', I told Bedelia that it was my becoming, but that was a lie. I had my becoming a long time ago, I was just ashamed of it. I'm not ashamed anymore. So, no, I won't be leaving anytime soon."

"I don't know what I'd do if you left," Hannibal replies, after a long pause.

"And you'll never have to."

Hannibal's tenseness disappears, and he nods and shifts to get up but Will stops him with a hand on his knee, causing Hannibal to return to where he was, frowning at Will in confusion.

"Do you miss her?" Will asks. "Bedelia?"

"You believe Bedelia was for me what Molly was for you?"

"I... She wasn't?"

"No, Will. What I felt for Bedelia was friendship, and nothing more. In all honesty, you are the only person I've ever loved like that," Hannibal admits, and Will swallows in surprise. He knew, of course he knew, that he was the only person Hannibal had ever really _loved_ , properly. But Hannibal is making it sound as if he's the only person he's ever harboured romantic feelings for at all, even including something as simple as a crush.

"But I do miss her," Hannibal interjects, jolting Will from his thoughts. "And while my feelings for her were not the same as your feelings for your wife, the situation is similar. I miss the woman that I used to talk to in therapy, not the one I fled to Florence with."

"Why's that?"

"In Florence things were different. She knew what I was for certain, and it scared her. A woman living in constant fear is not a woman who is very interesting to talk to."

"That's... almost  _rude_ of you."

"I'll admit that was not the only reason. She irritated me in Florence because it was not her that I wished to be there with. It was you," Hannibal says, levelling Will with his stare again, and Will stares back.

"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you. Much like you've forgiven me."

Will doesn't reply, just entangles their hands, and Hannibal glances down at them, thoughtful.

"So what was it about married life that you were so opposed to?" Hannibal wonders, probably thinking about the rings they had on their fingers not an hour earlier.

"It wasn't the marriage itself, I wasn't _opposed_ to it. It was the white picket fence life that Molly and I were trying to achieve," Will clarifies. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Hannibal murmurs, trying to appear nonchalant, and it would probably work, if Will didn't know him so well.

He thinks about the way Hannibal is looking at their hands, a mixture of hopefulness and hesitation, and for some reason, Will's mind focuses on the rings.

The _rings_.

Of _course_. Hannibal wants to... To _marry_ Will. Maybe not now, but he needs to know if Will would be open to it, one day. He needs to know if they have that opportunity.

Will decides that they do.

"We should get married," he suggests suddenly, and indulges himself in watching Hannibal's head shoot up, his eyes wide with shock. "We could do it, you know. There's a chapel just down the road, we could make the priest do it with our legal names, and get rid of him afterwards. We'd have to flee just in case the FBI found our names registered, I know, but I wouldn't mind."

"I thought you liked Vienna," is all Hannibal has to say.

"I do, but I like you more."

"You really want this?"

"Why not? We could go to Rome. Or back to Florence. I hear Paris is nice this time of year, as well."

"You never fail to amaze me, Will Graham."

Will grins at him, and hitches his glasses further up on his face. "Tomorrow?" He asks, feeling the beginnings of excitement, bubbling under his skin. "We could pack during the day, and wait until evening."

"Okay," Hannibal says, and seems to realise something. "But we need rings."

"We already have rings-"

"No. They were for a fake purpose, Will. We should have the real thing."

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. We should," Will agrees.

"Tomorrow, then," Hannibal confirms, smiling back at him.

"Tomorrow," Will says, and presses down harder on Hannibal's thigh, where his hand has fallen. "So, what do you want now? Birthday sex or a birthday meal?"

"May I ask for both?" Hannibal jokes, amusement evident in his tone, his eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter.

"You may," Will says, smirking. "Which first?"

"Well, I am peckish. Can I trust you to cook for me?"

"Hm. We'll see about that. I hope you like pizza and fries, Hannibal," he teases, and Hannibal grabs his wrist when he starts to rise.

"Don't you dare," he threatens, but his eyes are playful. "The lungs of that particularly rude tourist we encountered last week are in the fridge, I believe."

"Well, I'll try my best," Will promises, and this time, Hannibal allows him to get up. "So I think it's your turn to bottom tonight, but considering its your birthday, I'll give you a free pass to do whatever you want later."

"How kind of you," Hannibal says, and it sounds as genuine as everything else he says, but Will knows from experience that he's being sarcastic. "I don't mind what we do later. Surprise me."

"Well, I think we still have those handcuffs somewhere, so you're in for a treat," he says, turning around on his path to the kitchen so he can wink theatrically.

"Mm, I look forward to it."

Hannibal comes up behind him when he reaches the open door to the kitchen, having stood up and darted across the room to Will. He wraps his arms around him and spins him round, bringing them nose to nose. Will bites down on his lip, restraining a grin, and lets his breath ghost across Hannibal's lips, drawing him even closer, as Hannibal stares at him, looking almost shocked.

"I love you," Will says, brushing his thumb along Hannibal's collarbone, transfixed by his dark eyes, so close.

"I love you too," Hannibal replies, but is still gazing at Will with that strange stupefied expression.

"What is it?" He murmurs.

"Nothing, my dear Will. I just can't believe how lucky I am. Are you sure about this? You really want to get married?"

"I do."

"Well, at least you already know your lines."

It startles a laugh out of Will, loud and bright and childish, so he just throws his head back and lets himself _laugh_ , harder than he has in a long time, leaning on Hannibal for support. And Hannibal beams at him adoringly, smile so wide it threatens to split his face, pulling him in for a kiss, while Will tries to reciprocate through his muffled giggling.

Later, when they go to bed, they decide against the handcuffs, and go slow and sweet; loving. Hannibal falls asleep first, and Will gazes at him in the darkness, marvelling in his beauty, especially when his face is so open and vulnerable. He loves him so much his insides hurt.

Will had once thought he was like Icarus, and Hannibal was the sun, and he'd built wooden wings and gotten too close, gotten burnt, and plummeted to earth; away from Hannibal. But he knows now, he is not Icarus. Nor is he Patroclus, who Hannibal had once compared him to, in front of the crackling fire in his office, the air between them thick and heavy with sexual tension.

He is _Will_ , and he is unique.

 _They_ are unique.

There are no comparisons to be made, not anymore.

And Will keeps looking at Hannibal, sleeping peacefully, unaware of Will's rambling thoughts. But he doesn't care, because as he lies there, half asleep, eyes locked on the person he loves more than anything in the world, he distinguishes the emotion he's feeling.

Pride.

He is proud himself, proud of Hannibal, proud of them both. Because they did the impossible.

They survived each other.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's the end of this series :(
> 
> Basically, in my mind, they get married and move country, and everything is okay. Sadly, they never get a dog because of the risk that they might have to suddenly go on the run again, so Will is denied that pleasure. But apart from that, they live happily ever after <3


End file.
